The Loneliness of a Soldier
by BloodFromTheThorn
Summary: Dean needed his family, more than anything. But they didn't need him. Short character study of Dean, set within 1x11 Scarecrow.


_HELLO. I'm new here. Haven't written a Supernatural fic before so this should be interesting. I'm starting small with just this little character study but I'm hoping to write a longer story before too long._

_Anyways, I was rewatching the first season and I got to the episode 'Scarecrow' and I was just suddenly crushed by a load of Dean feels. So this happened. Also makes a few references to 'Skin' so beware spoilers for those two episodes (thought to be honest they've been out for seven years now, you probably should have already seen them)._

_Set directly after the phone call with Sam where Dean tries to say goodbye. And this is written as a stream of consciousness, hence the jumpiness._

* * *

Dean tossed the phone onto the seat beside him, trying to ignore the heavy knot in his stomach and the glassiness of tears in his eyes. This was what Sam wanted, what he needed and Dean couldn't find it within himself to stand in the way of that. Sam had to come first. Always.

So when the younger brother declares that he needs to find Dad, then that's exactly what he should do regardless of the fact that that means leaving Dean behind. Alone. Again.

He coughed to try and dislodge the lump in his throat as that thought washed over him, painful and strong and so bittersweet that he couldn't breathe.

_'"Sooner or later everybody's gonna leave me."' _That's what the shapeshifter had said to Sam when it was wearing his skin; the revelation of an innermost fear that he wouldn't have shared with anyone but there it was, torn out of his heart for everyone to see. Like so much useless information, to be heard and then disregarded. He'd never told Sam that he was awake to hear that; he didn't think he could bear it.

He had known this would happen though. Sam wasn't the sort of person that would be content moving around the country, doing a job that harvested little thanks and even less pay but Dean had hoped -so_ foolishly _hoped - that maybe it would be enough for the kid. That getting to know his brother and sharing his company would be enough to make up for the darker side to their lives. His life. Whatever.

Considering that they'd only been working together again for a few months the old habits had crept back in, set down roots and tearing them out again was going to hurt. He wouldn't relish the pain but it was nothing he hadn't done before, suffered through before. This was what Sam _wanted. _

He had to hold onto that. If he never saw his brother again - and a significant part of him was terrified that that would be the case - at least he knew that he had done what he could to keep him happy; he had set him free. No more familial obligation. No more loyalty to a brother he couldn't relate to.

It didn't matter that it burned like coals in his stomach, he would bear the burden with pride if it meant that Sammy was safe.

There was an unspoken truth to Dean that he never acknowledged, even to himself but it was there, nonetheless: he _needed _his family, more than anything but they didn't really need him.

Dad had never needed anyone, self sufficient island that he was. And Sam... well Sam might still be a little green since his return to the job but Dean had to admit that the kid was a damn good hunter and he had a mental capacity that rivaled any monster they came across. He could handle himself just fine.

But Dean? Sure he was a brilliant hunter and it took a lot to take him down but sometimes it just all seemed too much to handle and he needed someone to pull him back from the brink. It's why he hated hunting alone: he was terrified that one day he'd lose himself. Sam kept him grounded - a piece of good to offset his own natural disaster zone.

_'It doesn't matter now,' _he told himself sternly. _'You coped on your own before.'_

Somehow the words didn't hold as much comfort as he would have liked. He took a steadying breath, trying to fill his mind with everything he knew about Pagan gods but it was a wasted exercise - until he knew exactly what he was dealing with he hadn't got a chance. Failing that he tried to lose himself in the drive, listening to the sounds of the Impala around him but that only made it worse; this car was as much Sam's home as it was his. Or it had been at least. Dean honestly didn't expect to be travelling with his brother again.

Sam would go to California, find Dad and together they would hunt down the demon that had killed Mary and Jess. The two of them together, against whatever the world threw at them. And Dean would be here, alone. Maybe once the demon was dead Sam would keep travelling with their dad, trying to rebuild bridges that had long ago been burned to ashes but somehow Dean didn't think he would. It wasn't his style. If he was going to bet he'd say that Sam would vanish off the hunting radar again, probably for good this time.

He wouldn't come back to Dean.

It shouldn't hurt this much, he thought. It shouldn't feel like swallowing glass, like fire in his stomach but it did and he hated that feeling, hated himself for being so dependent.

_'Think about the hunt. The rest can be dealt with later,' _he instructed himself harshly, crushing the rest of his wandering thoughts ruthlessly. It wasn't ok. But then, nothing in his life ever really was.

* * *

_Like I said, short and sweet. Or horribly depressing, take your pick. Hope you liked it :)_

_Not my best work but then, I'm new. I shall continue to use that excuse for at least a month or two. Expect more from me soon._


End file.
